Only the Brave Conquer the Seas

His practice always began right after her team left the rink. How many times had Levi stolen glances at her but never dared to approach? He was too ashamed to even count. At the end of his career, on the thirtieth year of his life, he had truly fallen in love for the first time. He deliberately finished his stretches about fifteen minutes before the "Titan" team wrapped up their practice. He sat on the frozen benches, rubbing his numb limbs, waiting for the moment their session ended. Foolish and irrational. An hour and a half of strength training and warm-ups, only to let his muscles stiffen again. His elements were already falling apart. A figure skater’s career was swift, like a gust of wind, and just as quickly it faded. Levi had been lucky to last this long, solely due to sheer determination. He had endurance and no regard for pain, bruises, strains, or any of the hardships that forced others to give up their graceful path across the ice. Levi wasn’t one to complain. But even he knew that at some point, it had to end. Stepping onto the ice alongside fifteen-year-olds and watching them outperform him was humiliating. His back still bent, but with an audible crunch. Each year, splits became harder, and the only thing he could still do better than anyone else was jump. He flew across the ice. The winged insignia on his back was often worn by girls, but Levi was proud of his. He considered them a talisman, helping him soar again and again, still earning applause from the audience and high scores from the judges. It was long past time to stop clinging to his youth, but he couldn’t bring himself to quit, to transition like so many others into coaching and never perform again. One of the reasons was that girl from the hockey team. Levi couldn’t miss the moment she stepped off the ice. It was impossible not to notice her. Mikasa didn’t shuffle off the rink like a clumsy fledgling still growing into its wings. No, she exploded off the ice, sending hundreds of sparkling ice shards flying. She always removed her helmet mid-stride, her short, tousled hair falling messily, sticking to her flushed face. A goddess. Athena in the flesh. Her shining eyes burned with excitement. They set something inside him alight, like a lit match to kerosene. A warm whiskey poured straight into his chest. And Levi, like a foolish teenager, melted from this first and terribly inconvenient love. He had long told himself to either stop torturing himself and spying on the hockey players like some old pervert, or to just grow a pair and talk to her. Otherwise, what kind of man was he? But something always held him back. Mikasa was rarely alone, and approaching her—whether on or off the ice—felt like suicide. Walking into a crowd of hockey players was pure madness. They would have crushed him without hesitation. Hockey was a brutal, unforgiving sport. What was he even thinking? Levi asked himself this every time he tried to talk himself out of asking Mikasa for a simple cup of tea. She was young, strong, and a promising player. He was an aging fool, lucky not to have been kicked out yet. Levi watched closely as their training neared its end. His whole being tensed whenever Mikasa sped toward an opponent, slamming them into the boards or crashing into the barriers herself with a horrific scrape and thud. But he had grown used to it. Heavy gear protected bones from breaking, though bruises were inevitable. Like an idiot, Levi imagined one day kissing each of those bruises, as if his affection could heal real wounds. How ridiculous to become a romantic at his age. Levi leaned his elbows on his frozen knees, fingers running through his bangs. He needed to focus on his own training, on the upcoming session where, undoubtedly, something he had executed perfectly for years would suddenly fail him. That’s what should have been on his mind. A sharp scrape, a gasp, and a familiar voice crying out made Levi jump to his feet, rushing to the open section of the boards despite the weight of his skates. Mikasa lay sprawled on the ice, a thin trail of crimson running down her cheek. Levi leaned over the barrier, a sharp pain shooting through his temple.

*** 

"The doctor’s on the way! He’ll be here in a few minutes. Get something under his head!" Levi cracked his eyes open, squinting against the bright glare of the rink’s floodlights. A burning chill spread along his back. His thin turtleneck felt damp and clung to his shoulder blades. He tried to sit up, but a delicate hand pressed against his shoulder. "Don’t get up. You got hit by a puck." His eyes followed the hand upward, searching for the source of that angelic voice. Levi could have lain there forever if it meant keeping this moment frozen in time. Mikasa, bathed in the glow of the arena lights, knelt over him, placing a bundle of fabric under his head—her jersey, it seemed. She brushed a hand over her cheek, smearing the barely dried blood, and Levi instinctively reached for her, drawn like a moth to flame. She caught his hand mid-air, her own still chilled from the ice but impossibly soft. "How do you feel? The doctor will be here soon. You’re Levi Ackerman, right? My god, you nearly got yourself killed out there!" Mikasa bombarded him with questions, shouting over the voices of the surrounding players. But Levi wasn’t listening. She knew who he was. She knew his name. She was worried about him. In that moment, he felt like the luckiest man alive. "Is there anything I can do for you?" Her face was unexpectedly close, her eyes filled with concern. Without hesitation, Levi blurted out: "Yeah, you can…" "What?" "Go on a date with me." Mikasa froze for a moment, recoiling slightly, and his heart plummeted. The very thing he feared more than the end of his career had just happened. Mikasa had rejected him. The ice beneath him felt ready to melt from the sheer heat of his embarrassment. Any second now, steam would rise from his body like a thick winter mist. "What happened? Did anyone see?" "He tried to help Mikasa, I think—she got hit in the face with a skate." Distant voices exchanged words, drowning out the unbearable pain in his head—and heart. "Alright, hero," Mikasa smirked, nudging him gently in the ribs. Levi, caught off guard, exhaled all the air from his lungs. She was strong. Incredible. Like a masterpiece painted by an artist’s hand. So stunning, he couldn’t look away. She quickly apologised, but Levi wasn’t listening anymore. He was already mentally listing nearby cafés for their first date.